Dynamic Tension
by Morikumo
Summary: She wasn't kidding. Provocative, though, wasn't enough to describe it.      During a Rocky Horror rehearsal with Mercedes, Sam's willpower is put to the test.


A/N: First fanfiction in a long, long time. Outrageously long time. Wrote this on a whim and haven't beta-ed or anything...heck, barely a proofread. Hope it's not riddled with errors.

I love black women and blonde white men, it's just an aesthetic thing. I also think Samcedes is one of the most adorable pairings ever introduced on "Glee." Hope this upcoming season does not disappoint. Until then, I had some fun exploring the early stages of Sam and Mercedes' relationship, and the possible passion that may have arisen during the all-too-brilliantly-cast "Rocky Horror Glee Show."

Enjoy!

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><p>Quinn was enforcing purity. And he was totally into the purity thing. They went to same church, after all. He listened to the same youth sermons that she did, the same ones that extolled the dangers of premarital sex and lustfulness.<p>

Sam believed that, too. To a degree. He figured, though, that if he was committed to Quinn and only Quinn, then could sex really be that awful? It wouldn't be lustfulness if he _loved _her, right?

But then again, maybe it was exactly that last point that was keeping him from pursuing the activity more. It was too early for them to be in love. He liked her, sure. She was sweet (most of the time), smart, and put up with his geekiness. She told him how sexy he looked often. That didn't suck. And he did like kissing her. A lot.

They just had to control their lust.

_He _had to control his lust.

Fortunately, with each week, he was getting better at it. Quinn even noticed, praised him for it, but pressed further.

"Are you rejecting the temptation even in _privacy?" _

So he added that to his list of things to do. Or rather, not to do.

He had his demons, sure, but he could conquer them.

And then- Rocky Horror Picture Show happened.

Sam had no qualms about his body. He knew it was beautiful. He had no fear about standing in the tiny gold shorts that Mr. Schue produced, but rather slid them on without a second thought. He stepped out from behind the curtain that was acting as their dressing room, and knew immediately from the appreciate glances from Tina, Santana and Mercedes that it looked good. They were not costumed yet, but were applying lipstick at the mirrors. Santana muttered something in Spanish that he didn't understand, but he definitely understood the way her eyes focused on his stomach. Mercedes eyes were dark, her grin huge as she shook her head. "Damn, Rocky." For some reason, shyness ran through his veins until he had to drop his head to hide the blush. He nodded his thanks, then went to find Quinn.

She wasn't in costume yet, either. Her teeth were so straight, her smile so sweet. Like one of Stacy's barbies, practically. She dragged a sugar-pink fingernail over his abdomen, whispering hotly in his ear.

"Wow. You look great, baby." She pulled back. "Unzip me?"

He nodded, pulling the zipper. Quinn's profile caught the light as she turned to smile at him. "You're almost enough to tempt me."

She darted behind the dressing curtain.

He glanced down at himself, then felt a smug smirk pull at his lips. Not in the least bit tempted. He was getting better. Definitely.

Actually doing the show was fun- he'd never been in a musical before. He'd watched Repo!: The Genetic Opera about eight times, but this was really different. The only bad part was that he barely had any parts to sing. He'd started to realize this during their song rehearsals, but it wasn't until their first dress rehearsal that it finally clicked: he was pretty much just a standing piece of eye-candy.

Oh well. At least he had a part.

That first rehearsal was a long one. There had been continuous issues with the lights, and Brittany had had a few wardrobe malfunctions. During the "Time Warp," her tapshoe's heel snapped off, sending her careening into Quinn and the two of them into Kurt. Miss Pillsbury was strangely obsessed with perfecting the choreography of the "Time Warp," and then demanded three performances of "Frankenstein Place." Before they knew it, the rehearsal time had flown by. The clock on the backwall read 7, and Mr. Schue was calling it a night.

"We do have the choir room and stage until 8, guys. So I'd like it if Britt, Kurt, and Santana could stick around and we'll try to fix up that 'Time Warp' bit. Also, if Sam and Mercedes could use the choir room to try to figure out some basic choreography for 'I Can Make You A Man,' then I think we've got a good start that'll get us through the weekend." He clapped his hands together. "Thanks, guys!"

The club dispersed. Backstage, it was a flurry of movement as everyone redressed in their day clothes and returned costumes and props to the closet. Quinn skimmed by him, makeup remover in hand, and gave him a wink.

His de-costumizing was simple. Gold board-shorts, gone. He pulled his t-shirt on, stepped into his jeans. A ripple against the velvet of the dressing-room curtain caught his attention before he heard her voice.

"Hey, Evans! I'll be waiting in the choir room, so hit me up. I want to be home by 8:30."

He didn't know why,, yet a smile caught at his lips. It did that a lot around Mercedes. Probably because she had such a huge smile herself- the kind of smile that you couldn't help but respond to. He pushed aside the curtain, but Mercedes was already gone.

With a strange sense of urgency- probably, of course, brought on by her request to be home on time- Sam practically jogged to the choir room. The florescents were off inside, but the dim safety bulbs cast enough light that he could see Mercedes standing within.

Her skin was glowing in the light, practically. He had to blink a few times to rid himself of the sight- bizarre as it was. When she turned, the glossiness of her hair only intensified the glow. He opened the door. Her smile seemed to knock the air out of him.

"Hey," she said. Her voice was soft.

"Hi." He smiled, not sure why he was nervous. The choir room seemed weirdly small. The difference between night and day, he supposed. He smoothed his hands down his jeans.

"You ready, Rocky? I figure this won't be too bad, we can just kind of, you know, do the movie thing. Use it as inspiration."

"I haven't watched it."

Her lips puckered against a laugh. "Oh, great. Well, it's kind of provocative, but I promise not to dance all up on you. If you get uncomfortable, lemme know."

"I'm sure I'll be okay." He was, actually. If dating Quinn had taught him one thing, it was how to keep it cool in all situations. He followed her gesture, seating himself on the balance beam in the center of the room. It was, apparently, on loan from Sue.

"Cool. Then, let's get down to business." She strode over to the CD player.

_A weakling, weighing ninety-eight pounds_

_Will get sand in his face when kicked to the ground._

Mercedes was in a mad pair of heels. He never got why chicks wore them, but it did look pretty cool when she did a slight kicking motion. He grinned, still leaning against the beam.

_And soon in the gym with a determined chin,  
>The sweat from his pores as he works for his cause...<br>Will make him glisten... and gleam  
>And with massage, and just a little bit of steam<br>He'll be pink and quite clean  
>He'll be a strong man. Oh honey...<br>But the wrong man._

She wasn't kidding. Provocative, though, wasn't enough to describe it. The way she stood, thighs apart and poised tall, was sexy. And the way she _moved _made his breath hitch. A slight twist of the hips, the stroke of her own palm down her breasts, her curves as she sang...and she was still about five feet away. He licked his lips and tried to ignore the pressure building in his boxers.

She stepped closer, her face suddenly slipping into a smile. Vastly different from the expression of pure lust she'd been wearing only seconds before, and yet he still felt like his skin was being electrified. She closed the distance.

_He'll eat nutritious high protein and swallow raw eggs.  
>Try to build up his shoulders, his chest, arms, and legs. <em>

She was behind him, slipping her hands down his shoulders, dragging the tips of her fingernails over his pectorals, then his biceps. Thank God for his t-shirt. He instinctively knew that, if her skin touched his directly, he may just explode.

She darted around the edge of the beam to stand before him. Her eyes were like glitter. He couldn't remember if he knew how his lungs worked. Her touch was gentle but firm on his shoulders, pushing him back until he seated himself on the balance beam.

_Such an effort if he only knew of my plan.  
>In just seven days, I can make you a man.<em>

She pulled his hands to her waist, and he felt the delicious dip where it flared to generous hips. He knew he was gawking, that his cheeks were turning pink, and all Sam could think of was that this was Mercedes, his _friend. _His friend whose talent had always warmed him. And yet, this Mercedes was very different from the _friend _he'd become acquainted with.

His second thought was about how smart it'd been to ditch the board-shorts, because she'd definitely know something was up if he was still in them.

Just as he was becoming suited to his hands enveloping her smooth curves, she stepped away and whipped around, marching away from him. He couldn't help himself. He slid from the balance beam, following her body as if attached by a string.

_He'll do press-ups, and chin-ups, do the snatch, clean and jerk.  
>He thinks dynamic tension must be hard work.<br>Such strenuous living I just don't understand  
>When in just seven days, oh baby, I can make you a man.<br>_

Without her lead, he placed his hands on her, as she had done the verse before. He found himself pressing himself closer to her, his front to her back, letting his own palms smooth over her hips. Some kind of warning blared in his mind, causing him to pause- but then Mercedes turned, fitted her own hands over his and urged them on their course.

The music faded, the CD spinning to a stop. Neither of them had shifted from their stance. Sam's hands remained locked around her waist, his face still buried in her neck. She, meanwhile, had hooked an arm around his neck while her hand leisurely splayed over his abdomen. Her hand had worked its way under the cotton of his t-shirt, and it was as he suspected. The touch of her warm skin against his own was making his head hazy. The smell of her was all around.

Despite Quinn's rigorous mandate to learn some control over his own body, Sam was going insane. He was harder than he'd ever thought humanly possible, and his biggest desire was to kiss Mercedes until neither of them could breathe. He knew he should be repulsed by his own basic lust towards this beautiful _goddess _of a woman (and _friend, _he had to keep reiterating). But here he was, grinding his hips against her softness and feeling the bliss rise from deep within.

Mercedes was enjoying herself, too- her eyes had drifted shut, allowing her eyelashes to feather against her deep skin. He could hear the rapid breaths coming from her and was mesmerized by the rise and fall of her chest. Her lips were parted, just perfectly parted and waiting for him to kiss-

And then the lights popped off. In the dark, the school seemed to groan in the absence of technology. Sam himself groaned as Mercedes sprang away from him.

"Damn." Her voice was soft as velvet. "What the hell were we doing?"

Sam's lungs felt almost as tight as his jeans. It took several seconds of licking his lips before he was able to breathe, "I don't know."

From down the hall, he could hear Mr. Schue complaining about the wiring in the auditorium. He seemed to be trying to find the maitenance closet.

A long silence filled the air. Sam's mind twisted in a thousand circles.

"I guess- we should tone that down, a little." Mercedes' voice was so much smaller than usual. He could see her silhouette shrinking from him, the click of her shoes as she crossed away. Probably to get her purse. To leave.

Something about the realization made his heart uncomfortable, like crushed ice in his chest. "It was good, though." He resisted the urge to grab her. Sam would've traded the world just to press her against his too-hard body again. His voice lilted with question, "Wasn't it?"

He heard the rustle of her purse and car-keys. The persistent click of heels signifying her departure. Sam couldn't find the energy to budge a toe.

Just as he was desperately afraid that she'd just brush by him without a word, her footsteps stopped. He felt the warmth of her breath against the shell of his ear. His head snapped to the side. Her lips had to be only inches away.

"Sam," she whispered.

He was almost terrified that she would tell him to forget this ever happened. Then he'd have to erase this moment from his mind and let it fade into the bricks of the choir room as if it had never been- as if _they _had never been. The thought made him kind of sick.

"Mercedes," he began, wanting to stop her before she said any more.

"It was good." Her voice was like smooth champagne. He could _feel _her smile in the dark.

There was a whisper of touch on his hand, and then she was gone.

That night, he "forgot" to call Quinn, despite the fact that he didn't let his cellphone out of his sight. He waited for a call from Mercedes, a text, anything. Not a word all weekend. He couldn't get his mind off her, even when he tried to guilt himself over betraying Quinn.

The guilt thing barely worked.

In fact, after his rehearsal with Mercedes, he found it was even _easier _to control his sinful urges around Quinn. Her perfume didn't make his mind wander anymore- instead, it made him yearn for another.

He tried sending Mercedes a text, but it didn't work. Not the first time, and not the seventeenth time. His thumb always wandered to the "Cancel" button. At school, she didn't treat him differently. Just her typical, glowing self...except now he was attracted like a mosquito. A confused mosquito that didn't quite know if he was afraid of the light or dazzled by it. Probably both.

After a few attempts to discern her feelings, Sam realized that Mercedes didn't want the subject broached. He backed off immediately, despite the disappointment that threaded itself in his stomach. Maybe it wasn't written in the stars. Maybe it was better to stick to Quinn, who was safe and predictable and discouraged his adolescent thoughts. Quinn, who didn't press against him with large, wondrous breasts and glittering obsidian eyes.

A five minute encounter had suddenly become fodder for every fantasy that passed through his brain, and she pretty much commandeered every night's dream. For two weeks after the event, he woke up each morning with sweaty skin, pounding heart, and sticky sheets.

If Quinn Fabray was an angel enforcing purity, then Mercedes Jones was the devil on his shoulder. Everything about her, while good and sweet and strong and beautiful, was tempting him. And he was definitely ensnared.

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><p>AN: Not quite sure how I feel about this. I suppose that's why it's just a drabble. Hope you enjoyed it though. Thank you for the read, and good luck with the rest of the Glee Hiatus!


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